Culture

There are three things that the Czechs really dig. Ice hockey, football and the opera (beer would certainly take the top spot on this list, but it’s so ubiquitous, it’s not necessary to mention it). Since I’ve done nothing cultural since I’ve been here (except sample the beer) I decided that I should experience these three things. Admittedly, I would have only considered the first two if only one of my students hadn’t given me her ticket to the opera, which, was an experience.

I had never been to an opera before and I kept thinking of that Bugs Bunny cartoon where Elmer Fudd is a Viking singing that he must “Kill the wabbit, Kill the waaaabbit!” Anyway, when I was given the ticket I was excited to be trying something new. I got dressed up and made my way to the opera house for the nights performance of Rigoletto, an Italian opera about a court jester, his master and some servant girl that the master’s boffing. I got all this information from the synopsis in the playbill which is good because I didn’t understand a God damn thing while the play was going on. I knew it would be in Italian but thought I could follow along by just watching the actors. The Czech translation that flashed above the stage certainly didn’t help any and I was bored after 20 minutes. And it’s trouble when I get bored. I started fidgeting and singing the Czech translation under my breath. I considered punching the man next to me in the leg to see how he would react. I counted the globes in the chandelier. Decided which of the cast members I’d most like to have sex with. Needless to say I would have been hard pressed to stay through a whole 3 hour production. I bolted at the intermission. “How was the opera?” my student asked later. “Well the building was beautiful…”

Hockey was another matter. Sparta Praha vs. a team from Znojmo, which is located either in southern Czech Republic or on the planet Mars. We sat in the stands drinking beer and eating fat Czech sausages (which I’ll trade for a Dodger Dog for any day). It was a lot of fun and the crowd was pretty excited despite the arena being only half full. We got there ten minutes late and Znojmo was already up by a goal. Sparta answered back in the second period to tie it 1-1. Then in the third, Znoymo scored on a bullshit shot that barely managed to squeeze past the goalie. We lost 2-1, but while we were there we were singing and cheering as if we actually knew a thing about hockey. I surprised to learn that unlike American hockey, there is no checking allowed in the Czech Republic. Taking away the player’s ability to slam their opponents against a wall of reinforced glass seems wrong. I mean, that’s hockey. A sport that averages 3 to 4 goals a game needs something to keep the spectators entertained, and that something is violence. Get on that Czech Republic.

As far as football (soccer) is concerned, I’m pretty sure the rules are the same. This is the last cultural event that I want to experience while I’m here. I made plans to go to a game earlier in the week but found out just hours before the game that it was being played in Amsterdam. This lead to a stern talking to with my flat mate Kirsten that when I ask “when’s the next Sparta game?” of course I mean the next home game. I’m sure I’ll get to a game soon and when I do I’ll cheer my little hometeam-bandwagon heart out.